


I See Myself Next to You Until We're Old

by mlbee



Series: Running Home to You [9]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Engagement, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlbee/pseuds/mlbee
Summary: Mikael thinks a lot about the future, and what that means for them.





	I See Myself Next to You Until We're Old

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am back on my bullshit with the last installment of this! I've had it written for over a year and I never posted it because I'm horrible at that! Is anyone even reading this anymore? Or reading this ship at all? Regardless, I'm posting anyway. Hope it's not a great disappointment. (I am not super familiar with Islam, so if I said anything incorrect or offensive by mistake, please let me know and I will fix it!!!!)

It all started when they were out bowling.

Jonas had scored his seventh strike of the evening and was gloating profoundly.

He and Isak had done some elaborate handshake while Magnus, Mahdi, and Mutta danced in victory behind them.

They were all competing against each other, squads against squads. Except the Bakka boys had six against the boys' four, so they scarified Mutta to their team claiming that he had to because he was the youngest and therefore closest to them.

It was all fun and ridiculous and they were having a good time--good natured banter between all the boys as well as competition between the couples.

But they were tied at this point. Mikael's team had won the first game, and Jonas's team won the second. They were neck and neck for the last four frames, with only had two frames left to pull it together, and it was getting heated. Jonas's strike just put them ahead and now he was being completely obnoxious about it.

"You love him," Adam teased as Mikael watched Jonas gloat and dance, a small, embarrassed, fond smile playing on his lips.

Mikael rolled his eyes. "I do," he said, not even bothering to pretend otherwise.

"You think you'll ever marry him?" Adam asked.

Mikael looked at him in shock but he saw nothing but sincerity on his friend's face. He peeked at Jonas who winked at him before turning to his conversation. Mikael's heart stuttered in his chest a bit and his smile faltered. He looked at his hands, fidgeting, stretching the fingers, before looking back up at Adam.

"I can't," he said swallowing tightly.

"You could," he said quietly.

Mikael shook his head, "It's against Islam."

Adam nodded, understanding. MIkael wanted to go on, wanted to explain the thoughts he'd had tumbling around his head since he first started dating Jonas. But he couldn't. Not here. Not now. Not ever maybe.

He looked at Jonas again whose face brightened in laughter at something Magnus was saying, and he felt a tug in his chest, the way he always did when Jonas laughed. It wasn't sad exactly, but it was something deeply profound that he still felt, after nearly five years of being with him. It was a feeling that felt at once like the biggest thing in his life, and the smallest part of his makeup. He loved Jonas in a way he never knew he could love another human being. And he wanted, desperately to ground that in stone, solidify it, make it known to the world. But he knew that it wasn't possible. So he would have to content himself in feeling like this--this feeling of deep, pure, passionate love--was enough.

"Whatever happens though," Adam said nudging his shoulder against Mikael's, "You two will last."

"You think so?" Mikael asked, looking for confirmation of something he already felt to be true.

"Hell yeah," Adam said. "You're the best couple I know--besides your parents."

Mikael laughed as Adam walked away and made his shot, throwing the ball nearly directly in the gutter.

"What was that!?"

"You're a disaster!"

"You're out of the friend group now."

"I think it's better if you just leave."

They all teased him until sat back down, completely chagrined.

In the end though, Jonas's team won, even after a remarkable and unsuccessful split of Isak's.

"How does it feel to be in love with a bowling champion?" Jonas asked, arms spread wide as Mikael gave him a victory hug.

"Honestly it's super embarrassing. I don't know what kind of character it shows if you're good at something like that," Mikael teased.

"Excuse you," Jonas said, poking at his cheek. "Bowling requires a lot of skill and focus. It's very serious."

Mikael sucked air in through his teeth and scrunched up his face. "I don't know about that...I might have to dump you."

"You would never," Jonas said, pulling him in by the neck and pressing a kiss into his head.

Mikael didn't say anything else, just settled his arm around Jonas's waist and walked with him all the way to the tram.

He rest his head on Jonas's shoulder during the ride back to his place, and played with his fingers as they tapped a restless beat on Mikael's leg.

He followed Jonas into the apartment he shared with Magnus and Mahdi -- Isak having moved in with Even about a year ago -- and they commenced life as normal.

It was interesting, how settled they were in their routines. Though things still changed between them every now and then--sometimes Mikael needed to stay home to watch Samir or help his mom with things, or Jonas would go home because Thea was having another crisis and fighting with their parents--they still were very settled into a routine when they spent the night together.

Usually they'd make dinner or order take out, watch a movie on the couch or play video games, then eventually when the day had drawn long, they'd go to bed.

And it all felt so normal.

They'd brush their teeth, teasing each other, or wiping toothpaste off the corner of each other's mouths. They'd kiss and it would taste like peppermint and be nothing but smiles.

Then they'd go to bed.

And sometimes they had sex and it was nice and they'd wrap themselves up in the total bliss of the act.

But more often than not they'd just settle in together, letting their bodies sink into the mattress with the weight of the day. They'd kiss, gently at first, then quicker, with more passion and less breath, more teeth and fewer clothes. They'd kiss until their mouths were sore, they'd kiss until every inch of skin was covered. They'd kiss cheeks and necks and collarbones. They'd kiss the insides of elbows, wrists, fingertips. And sometimes, on Mikael's favorite nights, they would talk between kisses. Whispered words of fear, secrets they were still unfolding, desires, wishes, plans, goals. They'd whisper everything to each other in the dark of the room, the warmth of the sheets. They'd share their thoughts, everything their minds could come up with. And sometimes, when words didn't come, or were used up, or simply weren't enough, they would just lie there, holding each other through the night.

And in those nights, Mikael felt so completely whole that he wanted to do everything he could to stay like that. forever.

But he didn't know how to do that.

Because Mikael, though stubborn and defiant and constantly craving independence, was still guided very strongly by his faith.

And Islam iterates that family is the most important way to Allah.

So while Mikael wants to move out, to be on his own, or with Jonas, he's not sure he can do that. Because he loves his family more than he can bear, and he isn't sure he can leave them.

It was an argument he and Jonas had had a few times, to be honest.

"It doesn't make them any less important to you if you move out," Jonas had said when Mikael first expressed this feeling.

"I know that in my head," he said, "But it just doesn't feel that way."

And Jonas didn't understand. He was too secular, himself. Didn't understand how someone could be so completely reliant on a faith that, though good, still said so many negative things.

It led to several arguments beyond that, each one leading to Mikael getting upset and Jonas apologizing, promising him he wasn't trying to change his mind, and that he was just trying understand Mikael's mind.

And try as MIkael might, he didn't know how to explain to Jonas that even though his family annoyed him and he had too many sisters in the bathroom and Samir never let him sleep in, he couldn't imagine leaving them. Because in Muslim families, you don't leave unless you marry. And in Islam it wasn't possible for Mikael to marry.

He could marry, of course, technically. But that would mean leaving Jonas and marrying some Muslim girl he had absolutely zero emotions for.

But the thought of not having Jonas in his life, not seeing him smile, not kissing him, not waking up to him, not watching him be absolutely human? That was more than Mikael could bear.

And he had a lot of talks with Ahmed, the boys, Jonas himself, and he realized that, while he felt guilty for going against Islam and loving another boy, it didn't make him a bad person, and it didn't make him a bad Muslim. Because Jonas was honest and compassionate and good and Mikael couldn't not see Allah through this boy, even if this boy didn't believe in Allah himself.

So he loved Jonas with his whole heart and allowed himself to find a new way--a slightly greyer way--to his faith through it.

And it was good. Mikael felt fuller in his faith. It was a tricky relationship like any other, but he began to feel more support for his struggles. From his siblings, his parents, and Jonas too found a way to let Mikael open up about his faith and all the struggles and joys it brings, without judgement and with understanding.

They still argued about it from time to time, but it was more with the desire to see the other's point of view, rather than an argument to change the other's mind.

And Jonas still asked, in the way that Jonas does, if Mikael will ever move in with him.

"We can get a place of our own," he'd say, kissing Mikael's exposed collarbone. "None of my roommates being loud in the morning. No attempting to share your tiny twin bed. We can get plants and you can have a whole room to yourself for your art if you want. And it'll be ours. All ours."

And it sounded nice, truthfully. Mikael longed for a something that was him and Jonas sharing space, cultivating a life together. And his defenses were slowly eroding, he had to admit. But it still didn't feel right.

"Islam says I can't move out until I get married," Mikael would say, pulling the covers back over him and rolling over.

"Do you always have to do everything Islam says?" Jonas asked, slightly exasperated, but not mean.

Mikael gave him a pointed look.

"Fine," he said, sitting back and holding his hands up in surrender. "No moving out until we're married. Okay."

And Mikael didn't say anything else, just pulled Jonas down for snuggles and a kiss. But he was a fool if he tried to deny the way his heart stuck in his throat and his body flushed with the way Jonas said "until,” rather than “unless.”

"Adam asked me something interesting the other day," Mikael said to Even a week later.

"Hmm?" Even asked around his food.

“He asked if I ever thought I'd marry Jonas," he said, looking up from where he was shoving food around his plate to look at his best friend's reaction.

"Do you think you will?" Even asked.

"I can't," he said, giving him the same answer he gave Adam.

"If it weren't for Islam do you think you would?"

"You can't ask me that."

"Why not?"

"Because there's no part of me that would do something without keeping Islam in the equation."

"I know that," Even said. "But hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, yes," Mikael confessed. "I would marry Jonas in a second."

"So the only thing that's stopping you is that Islam says you can't?"

"Yes."

"Islam also says that homosexuality is a sin," Even said with a pointed look. "But you seem to be living with that fact just fine nowadays." Mikael blushed and looked at his hands.

"I guess so," he said quietly.

"So if you could remedy that part of your faith, what makes you think you can't do the same with this?"

So Mikael kept thinking about it.

Frankly it was the only thing he thought about for weeks. Months even.

"Do you think I should marry Jonas?" Mikael asked outright one day.

"Why?" Samira asked with wide eyes. "Has he asked you?"

"No, no no," Mikael said. "Well, not exactly."

Her eyebrow quirked and she urged him to continue. It was just the two of them, waiting for Ahmed to come home.

"He's asked me, a few times now, to move in with him," he admitted.

"And will you?" she asked.

"Well," Mikael paused. "That's the thing."

She silently stared at him as he fidgeted, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't know if I can," he said finally. "I like that family is the root of Islam. And I don't know that I can, in good faith, leave home without having another family to go to, you know?"

"And you don't think you have a family in Jonas?"

"Not exactly," he said quietly. "It's like, I love him. More than I ever thought was humanly possible to love another human being. I mean," he laughed, "I want to spend every second of my time with him, even when he pisses me off. But--"

"But you won't feel like he's family unless you're married," Samira finished.

"Yeah," Mikael collapsing a bit as his breath left him.

She nodded, pursing her lips together in thought.

"What do you think?" he asked after she was silent for a while.

"I think it's something you shouldn't rush. It's a hard decision, even if you're straight. And I know how you've struggled with the rest of it," her voice was quiet, washing over him in the small living room. "But I don't think it's wrong," she said. She squeezed his forearm and ruffled his hair as she stood up, going to take care of their daughter who had just woken up in the next room.

So Mikael continued to think. And the more time passed and the more discussions he had about the subject (with Zara, with Yousef, with Ahmed, with Adam again), the more he started to be okay with the thought that maybe one day, in the distant future, if Jonas were to ask, he could possibly consider marrying him and not feel completely guilty. Because the thing was, Mikael would marry Jonas in a heartbeat if it was allowed. And though technically gay marriage was legal in Norway, it wasn't in Islam. And something about getting married outside the faith unsettled Mikael.

"Would you ever marry me?" Jonas asked one day, about seven months after he said 'until we're married.'

They were sitting in the park, enjoying the unseasonably warm April day, very near their five year anniversary. Mikael's shock at the question must have shown on his face because Jonas laughed, lighthearted and he grabbed Mikael's hand.

"It's okay if you say no," he said, kissing Mikael's palm. "I promise I won't be too offended. I just...I dunno. I feel like this is a conversation we probably need to have soon."

Mikael took a deep breath and held it as long as he could, looking up at the sky, watching the clouds float above them. He let it out and told Jonas, "I'm not sure."

Jonas's smile was honey and he reached out with his other hand to brush Mikael's hair out of his eyes. "Can I ask why?"

"If we did," he started, swallowing the lump in his throat and forcing out the words that had been building in his chest for months. "We'd have to get married in a courthouse or something and not--"

"Not in Islam," Jonas finished.

"Not in Islam," Mikael nodded. "And something about that doesn't feel right to me."

"Is it because you feel that strongly about your faith?" Jonas asked, voice full of genuine curiosity.

"Not even that," Mikael said, sitting up. "I mean, I love my faith, you know that. But it's complicated. It's more that, if we get married outside the faith, we miss the beauty of it. The symbols of the marriage, the pact--I know it's all there at a courthouse too, but it's different in Islam. It feels stronger, somehow."

Jonas nodded, eyes understanding.

"And I don't know. There's some part of me that feels like I'd be disappointing my parents," Mikael continued. "I know it's ridiculous because they obviously know about you and love you dearly and think of you as part of the family already, so I don't know what the basis is for that feeling. I just know that it's there, and it's confusing and it's not letting me give you a clear answer."

Mikael looked up at Jonas, eyes full of apology, and he saw so many things. He saw sadness, first and foremost. But more than that, he saw compassion, he saw understanding, he saw trust, and he saw love. He saw so much in Jonas's face that even though it pained him not to be able to give a strong yes or no, he felt like it was okay. That it wasn't an end or a deal breaker. Instead, it was just something that would be worked through, like so many other things that they had passed through in their time together. Like so many things they would continue to work through.

Mikael put his hands on either side of Jonas's face and pulled him into a kiss. It was warm, and he felt Jonas's eyelashes brush his cheekbones.

He pulled away and pressed their foreheads together, hands still cupping Jonas's face.

"I do love you though," he said. "And I always will. You have to know that."

Jonas's face broke into a smile, part relief, part smug. "Yeah I know," he smirked before kissing Mikael again.

They didn't talk about it again after that, but something changed between them. Whether it was comfort in what was to come or confidence in their understanding of each other, Mikael didn't know. But there was a shift between them, and it was good. It felt more like home between them.

"What would you think," Mikael asked his mother tentatively one afternoon when they were having tea, "if Jonas and I got married?"

His mother gasped and he looked up from where he was tracing a finger around the rim of his mug.

"Did he ask you?" she asked excitedly.

"What?"

“Or did you ask him?"

"What? Mom--neither. It was hypothetical," Mikael stammered.

"Oh," she said sipping her tea, face falling.

"Oh?" Mikael asked when she didn't continue after a minute.

She made a noise in her throat and waved her hand in front of her, "I've been wondering when he was finally going to become part of the family."

"You...you wouldn't be mad about it?" he asked.

"Why would I be mad about it?"

"Because...well, because we couldn't get married at the mosque, or by an imam or anything. It'd have to be in the courthouse."

"So?"

"So, it wouldn't be real."

She made a tsk noise and pierced Mikael with a stare that made him sit up straight. "There are some people we know who would agree with that statement. Some of them are even members of your family, it's true. But the love you have between you two and the life that you would build is not going to be any different whether you get married in mosque or a courthouse. You're you at the core, and that's enough."

"You really think so?" Mikael asked after a minute.

"Of course," she said. "I wouldn't have let him help me cook if I didn't think he would be worthy of marrying you--with or without the faith."

Mikael was at a loss for words. He knew his parents had gotten more and more understanding as the years had gone on, but they were still fairly conservative, so he wasn't sure how to even bring up a subject like this. He had gone over every possible outcome a dozen times before even seriously considering talking about it. But this? This was something completely unexpected.

He stood up, moving to the other side of the table to wrap his mother in a tight embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered. In response, she only squeezed him tighter.

A week later, he was at Jonas's. They had the place to themselves--Magnus working a late shift and Mahdi at his girlfriend's place--and they were cooking dinner together. Nothing too fancy, just sweet potato curry and quinoa. They had the radio on quietly in the background and Jonas was talking animatedly about something that one of the other TAs did that was apparently completely ridiculous.

"And he kept saying 'I'm right about this I know it, fact check me!' and Sarah literally pulled out an encyclopedia--I don't even know where she got it to be honest--and was like 'No dude you're literally wrong and it says so right here'," Jonas laughed going back to cutting the potatoes.

"Hey," Mikael said, getting his attention.

"Hey?" Jonas said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"You look really good today," he said.

"Okay?" He said looking down at his plain jeans and flannel.

"I also love you," he said, stepping closer to Jonas and pressing a kiss into his lips.

“Okay..." Jonas said, blinking in confusion. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Mikael shrugged, turning to the fridge. "Can't a guy tell his boyfriend that he looks good and that he loves him?"

"Not when he's being weird and suspicious about it," Jonas said.

"I'm not being weird and suspicious," Mikael said shaking the carton of cream and putting it on the counter.

"Yes you are," Jonas said putting his knife down on the cutting board. "Now what is going on?"

"I just...wanted to ask you something," Mikael said, suddenly shy.

"Okay," Jonas said. He placed his hands on Mikael's hips and forced him to make eye contact. "Ask me," he said.

Mikael took a deep breath, and stared long--too long--into Jonas's eyes before he let it out.

"Will you marry me?"

His voice was quiet, unsure of itself. But it was out there now. No taking it back. Not that he would ever want to. But the finality of it all was terrifying.

Jonas's face dissolved from teasing into something more serious as he searched Mikael's eyes for the joke.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

Mikael, unable to find his voice, only nodded.

"You want to marry me?" Jonas asked.

Mikael nodded again.

"Fuck yes," Jonas breathed as he grabbed Mikael's face and pressed him back into the counter, capturing his lips between his own.

Mikael was stunned for a second before his hands were on Jonas, tugging him impossibly closer. Their tongues slid together and teeth scraped over lips. It was hot and breathless and Mikael felt dizzy from it all.

He pulled back gasping as he pressed his forehead against Jonas's. "I don't have a ring for you. I don't have anything really."

"You think I care about that?" Jonas asked, breaking into a smile. He kissed Mikael again quickly, but forcefully.

"I don't know," Mikael mumbled, "I thought you might--"

Jonas silenced him with another kiss.

"You want to marry me," Jonas said.

"I do," Mikael said seriously.

"I love you," Jonas said, pressing kisses into Mikael's lips, cheeks, forehead, neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Mikael giggled at the force of Jonas's kisses and the tickles they left behind. He squirmed his way out of Jonas's embrace only to be cornered again in the small bit of space between the counter and fridge.

"I love you too," he said, as Jonas stared at him, hot breath mingling over their lips.

He pulled Jonas close, slotting their lips together wetly. It was tender, serious, and full of feeling and Jonas pressed him tight against the counter. Their tongues slid together and Jonas's hands twisted in Mikael's shirt, pulling him closer. He wedged a knee in between Mikael's legs and dragged his teeth over Mikael lips. Mikael's hands tightened in Jonas's hair and his mouth opened in a gasp as Jonas pressed warm, wet kisses into his neck, teeth dragging lightly over the surface.

He lifted Mikael onto the counter and stepped between his legs, Mikael wrapping himself tightly around him. He ran his hands through Jonas's hair and tugged at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and over his head. Jonas did the same to him and they kissed for an impossibly long time in the kitchen, growing harder with every passing touch.

Jonas gripped his hips and (miraculously) carried Mikael to his bedroom. He pressed him soundly into the bed and wiggled them both out of their jeans and boxers.

It was slow, steady, easy this time. They didn't rush, they took their time with every kiss, touch, taste. They gave themselves over completely to each other in a way they never had before. In a way that just felt like the next step. Like another wall had come down between them.

“You really want to marry me?" Jonas asked, once they had finished. He hovered above Mikael, tracing his lips in the fading light of the room.

"I do," Mikael said. The words felt heavy in his mouth, honest.

"I do," Jonas repeated, whispering the words into Mikael's mouth. "I do," he whispered, pinning Mikael's wrists down and kissing his neck. "I do," he said, sitting on Mikael's lap as he squirmed.

"I do," Mikael said, chin jutting up, a silent request to be kissed.

Jonas obliged, and it was sweet. The sweetest kiss they had shared all day, and possibly ever.

Eventually they cleaned up and dressed and finished making and eating their dinner. But the whole time, they touched. Gentle passing touches on the back, teasing touches in sensitive areas, loving touches full of warmth. Everything felt different now. Their hands, their smiles, were heavy with the things that couldn't be said, the things that would come, but light with the joy that lifted their hearts and the corners of their mouths into unending smiles for as long as they both shall live.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? If you do, please tell me. I'm on [tumblr @ whenispeakicrossmyfingers](https://whenispeakicrossmyfingers.tumblr.com/)


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